Redefining History
by FatesMistake
Summary: Harry and Severus are stuck together in Grimmauld two years after Harry has graduated Hogwarts. When Harry suddenly decides he's bored, it spells trouble for Severus. But then, some troubles are worth the effort, aren't they? SSHP AU Rated M for a reason.


Happy 50th story to all my beloved readers. Please, enjoy.

Severus was reading in the library at Grimmauld. He was under orders (lovingly referred to as 'a simple request' by his lord and master, Albus Dumbledore) to stay at what was still the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters during the summers until the last of the Death Eaters vying for his blood were captured. It was lucky that Black had decided to reapply as an Auror after his name had been cleared. His missions kept him out of the house, and well away from the Potions Master. Even Lupin was gone most days, doing research for the Defense text he'd been working on for years. In fact, the only person who was almost always present was Potter, who had graduated two years ago.

The son of Severus' schoolyard nemesis had outgrown his father's looks, and, wonder of wonders, worked weekends in one of the apothecaries in Diagon Alley with Granger while they both took classes at a local college. In general, he and the Potions Master ignored one another's presence, though occasionally Potter would tell Severus about his work (usually when fresh ingredients had been ordered, and which one's Severus might need for his experiments) over dinner. It had actually been this that had broken the tension of perceived mutual loathing between them. One day, early the previous summer, Potter had asked, as if it were the most natural thing, if there were anything Severus needed him to bring home. Severus had warily given him a list of the ingredients he required (he was only allowed a once-weekly foray into the world, and only under guard, whereas Potter was almost always with Granger, and thus went out far more often), and Potter had returned that evening with everything he'd asked for, with no request for repayment. Even more rarely, Severus would assist with Potter's Muggle coursework where he could, having graduated with a minor degree himself while he apprenticed to become a Potions Master.

They were by no means friends. As stated previously, they mostly ignored each other, absorbed in their own work unless they met at meals, or their escapes from the monotony of their personal space coincided. It was exactly this collision of chance that found Severus reading in the library when Potter sauntered in looking like he'd been up half the night with his equations and histories before his class at an ungodly hour this morning. Despite the tired look in his eyes, and the slump of his shoulders, there was the constant set of defiance in his spine and the confident stride of one who knows their life means something.

Potter sat on the couch next to Severus, ignoring the six other seating options in the room.

"What're you reading?" The 19 year old asked casually.

"Golding's _Lord of the Flies_ ," Severus answered, just as casual.

Potter snorted. "The philosophy of a world ruled by children. The strong are branded dangerous, the smart are branded weak, and the cruel are given the role of 'leader' because no one else dares. There is no better testament of the human condition."

Severus couldn't help raising an eyebrow and looking at the younger wizard, mildly impressed. "You've read it?"

"'Course, it was on last year's reading list," He said, throwing an arm over the back of the couch his leg bent on the cushion between them. "Hermione makes me read them all, says it will make me more 'well-rounded'. There are some that I don't really care for, like Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ , but most of the books on the list are worth the time I could've spent studying."

Severus hummed thoughtfully. "You don't like Shakespeare?"

"I didn't say that," Potter said immediately. "I loved _Twelfth Night_ and _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , which are on this year's list. I just didn't like the tragic romance between Romeo and Juliet. They were both too proud, and they let their histories define them."

"I suppose I can see your point," Severus said, returning his attention to his book. "How did your test go this morning?"

The Wizarding Hero shrugged and gave a sigh. "I hate maths, but I think I passed, at least, thanks almost entirely to your helping me study yesterday."

"You're welcome," The Potions Master said distractedly, absorbing himself once more into the world of that little island and its small-minded occupants.

Silence reined for several minutes.

"I'm bored," Potter said at last.

Severus found his book suddenly snatched from his hands. He turned, snarling, to look at his companion. "Potter…"

The Gryffindor smirked, holding the book above his head. Severus reached for it, only to have the younger wizard lean away, moving it further out of his grasp. The Potions Master scowled and moved a leg up onto the couch, giving him the leverage to lift up on his knee and reach over top of his companion. Potter answered this by turning to face him, one leg sliding between Severus' knees. He grasped the front of Severus' black dress shirt, and pulled him down on top of him as he laid himself out on the couch's pillows, the book still held just out of reach.

Severus stared down into the mischievous green eyes. "Potter, what are you doing?" He asked. One arm was still extended, grasping for his book, and the other braced him above the Gryffindor he'd been pulled on top of, his hand sinking into the soft cushion beside the younger man's head.

Potter raised an eyebrow in challenge. "I'm bored," He repeated. Using his grip on Severus' shirt, he pulled himself up. Warm, full lips, crashed into Severus' own, a quick tongue darting between thin, pale lips to explore the cavern beyond.

Severus was startled by this sudden expression of unknown desire, but his body seemed to know how to work without him. His eyes slid shut, his tongue tangled with Potter's; his arm bent at the elbow, diminishing the space between them; and his manhood perked-up at the young man's unexpected show of force. There was the sound of his book crashing to the floor before a strong hand slithered under his out-stretched arm to pull at the tail of his shirt. The nimble, Seeker-honed fingers of Potter's other hand worked at the buttons of his shirt, popping them loose as his shirt was pulled free of his trousers. The Potions Master bent his arm against the back of the couch, holding his body slightly aloft, as his shirt fell open between them and calloused fingers scratched a trail over his chest and stomach. With a turn of his wrist, that same hand cupped him through his dark slacks, and he groaned into the kiss.

Not to be outdone, Severus fixed his grip onto the arm of the couch, and reached down with his other hand. He slid potion-stained fingers under his companion's white cotton t-shirt, coasting the pads of his finger-tips feather-light over the muscular abdomen. He ghosted his fingers over thinly-veiled ribs, sliding ever-upward until he reached a pebbled nipple. Thin fingers pinched and teased the hard nub, drawing a gasp from the Potter's beautiful mouth. Severus took the opportunity he was handed, and took control of the kiss, delving his tongue into the hot cave as that sinful hand continued to pull at and massage his clothed erection. Sharp nails raked over his back, earning Potter a gasp in turn, just enough for the younger man to regain control. The hard fingers left his back to bury themselves in the hair at the back of his head, drawing him closer, as the hand down below moved to grip his buttocks. His hips were dragged downward as Potter ground up, their matching hard-on's creating delicious friction between them. Both men moaned as the action was repeated again and again.

Severus felt a fire like he'd never known flow through his veins as Potter continued to grind slim hips against him. His skin burned from the inside, his breath came in short, needy gasps, and his mind spiraled into oblivion as he realized that his former student was already very close to bringing him to completion. The distant voice of reason called from the fog of his thoughts, questioning what had brought this sudden tangle of passion about, but he ignored it in favor of digging his fingers into sweat-slicked skin and drawing their bodies flush together. The added contact where his shirt hand been pulled apart and Potter's had been lifted, made him hiss with desire, breaking the kiss. Merlin, he was so close. He could feel his muscles coiling like so many snakes ready to strike.

"What the hell are you doing?! Get off of him!"

The mood was broken by the sudden interruption. Severus sighed in dissatisfaction as the tension in his muscles receded, especially in regards to his pelvis. He slid off of the younger wizard beneath him, sitting up, and situated himself into his former seat on the couch. He laid his head back against the cushions, drawing air into his starved lungs, and said nothing to the werewolf standing in the doorway aghast. Potter was slower to right himself. Severus could feel the bent legs beside him quivering with pent-up desire. The Gryffindor looked to the doorway with an innocent grin.

"Hey, Moony."

Severus couldn't help a smirk as the werewolf scowled at being so casually addressed.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Potter sat up slowly, his breathing far more regulated than Severus' thought necessarily appropriate so soon after their activities. "I'm 19, Moony, stop acting like some crime has been committed."

"I don't care how old you are," Lupin said angrily. "It doesn't give Snape the right to molest you like that!"

Potter chuckled as Severus frowned and stood. "Actually, I started it, so technically I was molesting him," He joked. Severus rolled his eyes, and avoided looking at either man as he grabbed his book from the floor at the end of the couch. "Besides, it's not as if we weren't both active participants. What's it to you who I make out with?"

"He's old enough to be your father, Harry!" Lupin growled.

Severus started towards the second set of French doors, away from the arguing duo.

"I know. Jealous, Remmy?"

The Potions Master snorted. He wasn't even entirely sure which of them Potter was asking in regards to, but from the sound of the gasping and stammering from his schoolmate, he wasn't far off the mark. He didn't stick around to hear what the werewolf eventually blurted out, instead hastily retreating to the room he'd been given one floor up. Let Potter deal with the consequences of what he'd started, Severus was already dealing with the consequences of what they hadn't finished.

 _Break_

Hogwarts' Head of Slytherin re-read the same paragraph for the fifth time in as many minutes. It didn't seem to matter what he did, he couldn't concentrate on the words in front of him. His shirt was still mostly unbuttoned, his hair a tangled mess, and his fingers trembled with adrenaline even as he tried to hold his book steady. He had tried to correct these reminders of what had happened in the library, but had abandoned them almost as soon as he tried. Whenever he tried to button his shirt, he recalled the feel of firm, calloused fingers raking over his skin, and had to stop when his body reacted to the memory. He had tried to brush his hair, but this had only reminded him of the delicious force Potter had used to drag their bodies closer together and deepen their kiss. Simple matters such as these had become impossible with the threat of being overwhelmed by the memory of what had transpired.

It was this very threat that had Severus trying and failing to read his book as he lay on his bed, propped up against the headboard and pillows. He could manage only a few words before flashes of sensation would tangle his thoughts, the little island vanishing in the wash of desire that flooded his veins each time they did. With a groan of frustration, Severus set his book aside on the bed. It was no use, carnal passion had destroyed his ability to concentrate.

The former Death Eater closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the headboard. As soon as he did, the same flood of memory crashed over his mind. He let it, losing himself in the remembered sensations as he reached a hand down undo his trousers. As a general rule, he didn't normally pleasure himself, preferring instead to find some lonely Muggle to fuck and forget. This time, however, he was making an exception. Potter had driven him to distraction, and he only hoped that achieving the orgasm he had missed out on earlier would clear the younger wizard from his thoughts.

Severus had only just managed a partial erection (grown entirely from the memory of Potter's limber attentions) as he lowered the zipper of his black slacks, when he was interrupted for the second time that day. He groaned as whoever it was knocked on his door a second time. At this rate, he would be more pent-up than he had _ever_ been as an undesirable teenager. He re-did his slacks, willing himself flaccid. It was probably Lupin, come to have a go at him for daring to defile the Boy Who Lived.

"What?!"

Despite the fact that this was not an invitation to enter, the door opened. Potter slid through the crack he'd made for himself and leaned back against the door, closing it soundly behind him. There was a devilish smirk on the tanned features.

"You weren't in your lab," Potter said.

"I'm reading," Severus bit out, not allowing his hopes to rise.

One indiscreet sexual foray was one thing, but he doubted a second would be as easily forthcoming. Potter was probably here to give some half-baked excuse for his behavior. Severus didn't dare let himself wonder why he wanted this at all, and firmly denied any wandering questions about what he really wanted from this. He already knew that, for him, this afternoon's events had been more than sexual…no one had dominated him like that in a long time, he hadn't let them, and yet he'd given up control to the younger wizard almost without argument. He knew it meant something, but, as he'd said, he didn't _dare_ examine what that something was.

Potter smirked. "Doesn't look like you are." He moved away from the door and approached the side of Severus' bed.

"What do you want, Potter?" Severus growled.

"To finish what we started."

Severus was mildly impressed with the ease with which Potter referred to their indiscretion. He had expected a stammered, rambling apology, not such casual confidence. The Gryffindor had certainly grown when Severus wasn't looking. This wasn't the nervous First Year from his first Potions Class, nor even the shy, angry Boy Who Lived that had graduated Hogwarts two years ago. This was a confident young adult wizard who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it (a mildly _Slytherin_ young adult wizard, Severus' mind supplied).

In a single move, Potter pulled his t-shirt off over his head and climbed onto the bed on all fours. He crawled up Severus' legs and nuzzled the exposed sternum between the partially buttoned flaps of his shirt. A warm, pink tongue slipped out between full lips, trailing up his chest. Potter's hands went to Severus' shoulders and pushed his shirt out of the way. First one nipple, and then the other, were nipped at sharply, only to be soothed by the teasing tongue that followed. Severus could already feel his breath coming in shorter gasps as his hands clamped onto the slim hips and his eyes slid closed. The Gryffindor continued his trail of salivation, journeying over the hills and crests of the Potions Master's chest and collarbone. He paused again at Severus' throat, licking, biting, and sucking; marking him for anyone who cared to look. A small noise escaped the long, pale throat as Potter gave a final, hard nip to the bruised skin and pulled apart the shirt Severus hadn't even realized the younger man had been unbuttoning for a second time.

Potter lifted his head, and Severus opened his eyes to stare into impossible green. He leaned forward as strong hands coaxed his shirt off of his shoulders. The black cotton was tossed aside as Potter smirked at him. Severus swallowed thickly.

"Lupin's interruption kind of ruined my mood," Severus lied, trying desperately to ignore the rage in his pants.

The Gryffindor didn't reply, only raised an eyebrow in challenge. He scooted his hips forward, the bed dipping lightly each time he slid a knee forward. When he was far enough forward, he ground down against Severus, who tightened his hold on slim hips with a deep moan. They really shouldn't be doing this. They were being forced to live together, it would be incredibly stupid to let what might be a passing fancy (for Potter at least, Severus had no such illusions after he'd so readily given up complete control) make what was already a difficult situation even more awkward.

"You're thinking too much," Potter murmured, cupping Severus jaw on either side. He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on frozen lips. When Severus didn't immediately respond, he ground down again and tried to deepen the kiss.

Severus used his handle on the slim hips to push the Gryffindor away. "Harry…" He breathed. He hadn't even known he could say the young man's name aloud, but now that it was out, the Gryffindor stared at him expectantly. "What are we doing?"

The smirk didn't falter. "That's up to you, Severus." He leaned down and licked the bruise on the pale throat. "Either we're curing boredom…"

Severus swallowed thickly as he felt another wave of desire crash over him at the simple gesture. "Or?" He forced out past his dry throat.

Potter sat up and looked him in the eye meaningfully, his face serious. "Or," He started softly, scratching his nails lightly over Severus' bare chest. "We're redefining our history. It's your choice."

Severus reached up and cupped a tan cheek. "You're sure?"

The mischievous smirk returned, a smaller hand covering Severus' own. "Never. That's what makes it an adventure."

"We could be terrible for each other," Severus argued weakly.

"True," Potter murmured. He turned his head slightly and a pink tongue darted out to lick at a sallow palm. Green eyes flashed with desire. "But what's life without a little risk every now and again?" Sharp teeth nipped playfully at the heel of Severus' hand.

And so, the Head of Slytherin succumbed to the whim of the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Lips and teeth explored every inch of his body in a blasphemous worship, paying special mind to the ugly tattoo that marred a sallow wrist. Clothes were removed with a flourish, discarded over the edge of the bed until they both lay bare to one another, no scar too small to be dictated to with tender care. Severus nervously allowed himself to be rolled onto his stomach, and slowly relaxed as every inch was covered in feather-light kisses. He tensed only slightly as he was gently prepared, and went willingly into the spiraling passion of submission as Potter drove home the firmness of his feelings. Grunts and groans, hisses and gasps, moans of delight and whimpers of need filled the space around them like a cloud of desire. It was a dark rhythm of eternity that consumed them until Severus didn't know where he ended and his lover began.

As their passions grew, so too did their exclamations, until both were practically shouting into the dark night. Names were whispered, and then shouted with pleasure when their bodies collided at just the right angle. Fingers bruised, and nails scratched. Teeth bit, both at bottom lips and each other's skin. Bodies tensed as they rocked on the edge of oblivion. With the finality of spent passions, they fell almost as one into the black hole of climax, names shouted with such fervor that they might have woken the dead (and did, in fact, in regards to Black's howling mother).

They collapsed as one onto the ruffled bedspread and discarded pillows. Bodies, still mostly tangled, trembled in time with their rapidly beating hearts. Muscles shuddered with spent energy. Lungs inflated desperately, only to lose the air as soon as it had filled them. Severus rolled onto his back, away from the spatter of his passions. He was pleasantly surprised when Potter curled against his side, head resting on Severus' thin chest. In this, at least, Severus dominated, drawing the smaller body tighter against his side.

"You never actually said," Potter murmured.

Severus frowned breathlessly. "I'm too old to be star-crossed in love."

Shaggy black hair tickled his chin as the Gryffindor nodded. Potter swiftly untangled himself from Severus and immediately went about methodically locating his clothes in the pile on the floor. He stood from the bed and began pulling on his pants and jeans in one fluid motion. His t-shirt was snatched from the floor, but before he could slip it on, Severus moved from the bed. With quick, sure movements, he had pinned Potter to the wall, rattling the quaint Muggle paintings around the room. He tightened his grip on the wrists as the younger wizard struggled against him minutely.

"What're you-"

"I am not, however, too old to take the risk of being _favored_ in love," He hissed against kiss-swollen lips.

Potter smirked. "Life's a game of chance."

Severus released the younger man and drew him into a firm embrace. "Then deal me in."


End file.
